Chapter 14

Gordon was usually impatient with the ride from Jackson to Sourwood, but not this time. He liked Mira beside him. They had sat close on the train, but not touching. Now he could feel her next to him. Side by side. That was how a marriage should be. Two people yoked together with common purpose. And love.

Purpose was a good beginning. Love would come. Faster for him than for her. She was still uncertain of this path she'd chosen. And she had chosen it. He hadn't pushed her into it, although he had definitely tried to convince her to come to Sourwood. The Lord had done the pushing for him.

When she shivered, he slipped one arm out of Mr. Bramblett's coat to wrap it around her. When he pulled her close within the warmth of the coat, he was more than a little surprised she gave no resistance.

She was so small, almost fragile, that he felt as though he were sheltering a precious bird. The Lord had put this woman beside him. Gordon did not want to do anything to spoil that.

Mira was his wife in the sight of God and the state once Pastor Haskell recorded their marriage at the courthouse. Gordon could wait until Mira was ready to be his wife in every way.

The Lord taught him patience after he came to the mountains. At first he had been so eager to spread the gospel that he wanted to demand people respond to his sermons. So when they failed to accept the gospel, he had been distraught, sure he had lacked in sharing the Lord's message.

After much prayer, he realized his task was to faithfully sow the seed. Whatever that seed produced was the Lord's doing. Just like John's grandfather. All Gordon could do was show the man he cared enough to share the greatest gift with him. He couldn't force him to open it.

The same was true with Mira. She would have to want to accept the gift of marital love. Gordon was more than ready to embrace that gift. In time, perhaps Mira would feel stirrings of love for him or at least affection.

When they crossed the final creek and topped the last hill, John reined in the horses before going on down into the little valley. The first time the boy had driven him to Sourwood over two years ago, he'd asked him to stop here on the rise to let Gordon peer down at the place. Since then, John always stopped before Gordon asked.

Part of the hill had been logged a few years ago to leave nothing behind but stumps, scattered brush, and scrub pines. The other hillsides rising up from the little settlement of houses along the holler were still covered with trees. Here and there a cabin was visible among them, while other homesites were hidden.

Gordon was thankful the loggers hadn't found their way back to Sourwood, but someday, they would come again with their saws and axes. The standing timber was money, and only the most stubborn landowners like John's grandfather could turn that down forever.

"Seen enough, Preacher?" John asked.

"I never get tired of this view, John." Gordon looked down at Mira. "What do you think of your new home, Mira?"

"Home."

She spoke the word so softly he couldn't tell if her voice held despair, resignation, or wonder.

Gordon had found the mountains full of beauty the first time he'd ridden up into the tree-covered hills. Since then he'd seen some of the ugly too. Many families worked worn-out farms that made it a struggle to feed their children. Some neighbors stayed crossways with each other for some slight or disagreement they might not even remember. Moonshiners were ready to shoot anyone poking around their stills. Typhoid and tuberculosis took an unholy harvest of loved ones. Some in Sourwood had no welcome for the gospel or the man bringing it.

But the beauty of the place never faded in his eyes, and not just of the place, but of the people too. For every person who wished him gone, ten more had held out their hands in welcome. They would welcome Mira too.

"It ain't a bad place, Missus. Plenty worser spots to land on." John grinned over at Gordon. "Whilst I ain't all that ready to wax poetic about it like I've knowed a preacher to do now and again, peppered over with snow like as how it is now does dress it up a mite."

"Oh, but it is beautiful. Which house is yours?" Mira looked at Gordon.

He wished she'd asked which was theirs, but he couldn't expect that before she'd even stepped through the door. "That one toward the middle. The church is right beside it, and the school is going up on the other side of the church." He pointed toward the buildings.

"You oughta get a bell for the church, Preacher," John said. "A church needs a bell."

"That would be fine, John. I'll put it on my prayer list," Gordon said.

"Schoolhouses have bells too," the boy said.

"So they do. Maybe I'll double the bell prayers."

Mira laughed, a sound that made the sun brighter. "You mustn't get greedy."

"The Lord doesn't limit our prayers. He's ready to answer abundantly if it is in his will."

"Yes, his will." Again her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Don't count Preacher out, Missus. After all, he got them folks down there to build that there church."

"The Lord had more to do with that than me," Gordon said.

Mira kept staring down at the houses. "It all looks so peaceful and warm somehow."

Gordon felt a smile all through him. "Home is supposed to look warm."

John snorted out a short laugh. "You'uns take the cake. Ain't nothin' warm on a froze-up day like this. And I ain't seein' no smoke risin' up out of your chimney, Preacher. You're gonna have a cold house to get home to."

"True." Gordon wished he'd had a way to let someone know when he was coming so they could have had a fire going. Of course, nobody knew he was bringing a wife with him.

"Well, I reckon the two of you will find a way to stay warm until the fire heats up." John grinned and flicked the reins to head the horses down the hill.

Home. Such a beautiful word. And not one that Mira had really known since she left her mother's house six years ago. She had rented accommodations that were never really home, even Miss Ophelia's rooms, a place she liked. She had always considered herself a guest instead of belonging there. Would that be the way she felt here too?

Everything was so different. She couldn't imagine belonging in a log cabin, miles from any town. Other cabins were scattered along the little valley. Smoke did rise from their chimneys to drift up into the blue sky. A few white clouds floated over the hills.

Even though it wasn't that late in the day, the sun was beginning to dip below the tree-lined hills to the west. Night would come early here.

Night. She wouldn't think about that yet.

She had leaned into Gordon's warmth through the long ride and let him cushion the bumps for her. They had shared Miss Stella's ham and biscuits and fried apple pies, with John eating the most. Mira thought that would have made Miss Stella smile. The boy looked so young, more like one of her students back in Louisville instead of someone ferrying people over these rough hills. But perhaps he was older than he looked. He had been ready with his sly remarks about them being newlyweds.

She might as well get used to that. No doubt Gordon's church people would have plenty of teasing remarks for him and many questions about her. After all, he'd left here last week a single man. He couldn't have given them any warning about returning with a wife. Everything was so sudden. Perhaps too sudden.

No sense thinking about that. Better to think about her new home. The cabin might be cold when they got there, but it would warm soon enough with a fire kindled in its fireplace. Where she would be expected to cook. That thought awoke new worries. What in the world would she cook?

Water would have to be carried from somewhere. A well, perhaps. Or a spring. Cool water filtered by mountain rock. That would be better than water from the creek she could see behind the cabin, but that creek would be the only running water in Sourwood. The cabin would have no water closet. Was there an outhouse? The school would need an outhouse. She would insist on that.

One thing at a time. No need to pile up problems that might or might not be there. Well, people did have to eat. A person did have to have water. Did need a water closet or outhouse.

Other people lived in this community. They managed. She took a deep breath. She had faced challenges before. She would face them now.

The boy pulled the wagon up beside the cabin. "Here you be." He tied off the reins and jumped to the ground. Gordon did the same and then helped her down. She climbed up the two steps to a wide porch along the front of the house that had a door and two windows. She hesitated, not sure if the door was locked or, even if it wasn't, whether she should go in before Gordon opened it.

"Best wait a minute, Missus." John caught Gordon's arm and jerked him away from where he had started to untie the trunks. "Ain't you gonna carry your missus into the house, Preacher? My granny says a man has to pack his wife over the threshold so nothing bad happens to the bride."

"Why is that, John?" Gordon asked.

"I don't know. Granny has all kinds of things like that she says keeps away bad spirits."

"I trust in the Lord, not superstition."

John looked troubled by Gordon's words. "You sayin' there ain't no devil to mess with a feller?"

"I didn't say that. But superstitions don't keep the devil or bad spirits away. Trusting in the Lord does that." Gordon's voice had not the slightest shred of doubt.

John shrugged. "Seems to me doin' something simple like knockin' on wood to keep the bad from messing up the good don't hurt nothing."

"Or help anything."

The boy turned toward Mira. "What do you think, Missus?"

Mira had to smile at the look on his face. He obviously believed his granny. Gordon just as obviously thought it was foolish. A believer shouldn't cling to superstition. "Of course, Preacher Gordon is right, but I appreciate your concern for my happiness, John."

She peeked over at Gordon, who had his hands on his hips, watching her. She couldn't quite read his face, but just as she had surprised him on the train by insisting on marriage, she had the audacious desire to surprise him again.

"But ..." She hesitated, not sure she should let out the words.

A frown creased Gordon's forehead. "But what?"

"I've heard of the tradition of a groom carrying a bride over the threshold with no thought of superstition. Just a fun thing." Her face went hot even in the cold air. Whatever was Gordon going to think of her? She needed to practice swallowing every foolish word that wanted to come out of her mouth.

He did look perplexed for a moment, but then laughed. "Fun is definitely approved by the Lord."

He was on the porch beside her in what seemed like three steps. He shoved open the door and swept her up in his arms. "If the bride wants to be carried over the threshold, then the bride will be carried over the threshold."

Mira hid her face against his shoulder and smothered a giggle.

Behind them, John let out a shout. "Whoopee!"

Once through the door, Gordon held her for an extra moment before he carefully set her on her feet and stared down into her eyes.

Mira didn't look away from his gaze. "Thank you, Mr. Covington. I do hope I didn't compound your difficulties in preaching against superstition." Then in yet another audacious move, she tiptoed up to kiss his cheek.

"You are very welcome, Mrs. Covington." His face looked as flushed as hers felt.

"Preacher, you're home!" A little boy ran through the door behind them and skidded to a stop when he saw Mira.

"Joseph." Gordon turned to the boy. "Just the man I want to see."

"She the teacher you been talkin' 'bout?" the boy asked.

"She is. Meet Miss Mira. Miss Mira, meet Joseph, the best fire builder in the hills."

"Hello, Joseph." Mira remembered what Gordon had told her about the boy, but he looked too young to be building fires. What had Gordon said? Six? He was small for that.

Joseph didn't return her greeting as he narrowed his brown eyes and looked Mira over. "She gonna live here?"

"She is," Gordon said. "She's my wife."

"You done gone and got hitched, Preacher?"

The boy sounded so dejected, Mira had to laugh. So did Gordon. "I surely did."

"Aw heck." The boy's lip jutted out. "Now, you won't be no fun no more. Wimmen ruin ever'thing."

Gordon knocked the boy's felt hat off and ruffled his hair. "No talking like that. Who knows? Miss Mira may be out there playing ball with us." He glanced back at Mira. "She's full of surprises."

"Preacher," John called from the porch. "We best get these trunks unloaded. I need to be on my way so's I can make it to Pap's afore the edge of night."

"Be right there, John." Gordon picked Joseph up and lifted him until they were face-to-face. "You haven't gained an ounce since I left. You forget to eat?"

"I et. Some."

"I brought you some peppermints." Gordon put him down. "You get that fire built and I'll dig them out of my trunk." He shook his finger at him. "And you be nice to Miss Mira."

Joseph gave her another unhappy look, but he followed Gordon out. Mira hoped it was to get wood for the big fireplace on the back wall. John was right. The house was cold now that the flush from her audacious behavior had faded.

She twisted her lips to hide a smile. Miss Ophelia would be amazed, and Miss Stella would be proud. Maybe marriage wasn't so bad. She let her gaze slide over to where she could see a bed through an open door.

One worry at a time. First a fire. Then water and food. Before long she'd have to find the outhouse. Best think on necessary things before worrying about nighttime.